pixel skylines
dirt enthusiast
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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Stranger Things
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Mike Driver
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Today's Document
oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.
#extradirty
Love Begins
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JVL
if i look back, i am lost
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@entriprises
#ENTRIPRISES : an independent , low activity , mutuals only MULTI-MUSE ! written by birdie ( she/they/he , 21 + )
exploring themes of . . . perseverance, writing the history books, in the face of overwhelming odds, humanity, family of choice, reaching out, and being a long ways away from home.
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE, thanks for tuning in 🌅 find my latest collection at @wizzos !
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE, thanks for tuning in 🌅 find my latest collection at @wizzos !
THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE, thanks for tuning in 🌅 find my latest collection at @wizzos !
BLOG UPDATE ! i am officially moving blogs -- i still have a queue left on this blog that i'll be working on moving over to the new blog, including any old threads for muses that i will be continuing to write. there's no pressure to reply to anything that i give you something for (especially as some of it is half a year old), and we can drop any and all threads. i'm going to move over and continue anything i feel any interest in, but if there's something you feel passionate or enthusiastic about please shoot me a message and i'm happy to discuss it! catch ya on the flip side - with care, birdie ♡
what did my queue just do
the clicks grate at him. keller has skills -- neal can admit that easily, as a warning to anyone who has to deal with him. chief among them is how he gets under neal's skin. he feels like huffing, saying screw it and walking away because this of all things is humiliating. neal needs no reminder but one comes in peter's voice about needing to stay level headed. he barely moves a muscle, blinking down at the man.
“ somehow i think you'll recover just fine. ” don't act like you don't get off on this. every breath is measured, neal holds his stare. “ do you have the ring or not? ”
❝ what's this, all business? ❞ he's stalling. if not for time, then for the sake of keeping neal here just one minute more. after all, it's an endless rotation of the same conversation anymore. so much compliance – no real pushback. there's no thrill, no spark. no satisfaction when the game's ended and all that's left to reap is your reward.
keller swipes his tongue between his lips, the corners of his mouth turning, twisting, upright. ❝ why don't you take a seat, caffrey? huh? play a game like we used to ... ❞ but he already knows the answer. neal's flustered, frustrated – looking for something and he's hot on its trail. he doesn't have time for this, doesn't have the time for him.
so, keller will do what he always does and make the goddamn time.
❝ for better or worse, i chose my own path. ❞
@entriprises.
"i'll have you know, i'm actually really good with babies." he smiles, no fight put up at the loss of the toy. what he knows about peter's son is little, and it's almost odd -- they used to make it their business to know each other's business. neal thinks about the birthday cards and the holidays cards and everything he'd ever learned about peter, and later elizabeth. it was hard, not to reach, not to reach for information. he could have, it never was far from his fingertips to, but it would've been so utterly selfish -- so utterly the man he was trying to pretend was buried.
his eyes find the pictures, how he didn't land on them at first neal isn't sure, but every inch of the mantel top and free space on the shelves is taken up by the same brown haired growing boy. he's every bit both his parents, with a half grin in almost every frame, and it's hard not to stare.
when neal turns, like everything in the burke home that's now subject to his curious eyes, peter's face is combed from top to bottom. he shows the years, there's some grays at his temples that neal doesn't remember being there before. he looks between him and the pictures. "something tells me that smile's been giving you a run for your money."
is that something he has now? experience with babies? what did neal get up to for those eight years? is there a wife and kid out there somewhere? in paris, maybe. peter always thought neal would have picked paris. he'd pull out a map sometimes and start circling places on it—somewhere with culture, beautiful women, a crowd to slip into. and paris is flashy; he'd love paris.
he opens his mouth, but can't actually ask the question. "of course you are, you're not much older than one." calling him immature: safe territory.
there's a weird double vision seeing neal in his home again, at the same time here and ten years in the past; seeing neal with longer hair and a black turtleneck, sitting on his couch petting his dog; neal in a tux; neal flipping that stupid hat onto his head. peter used to spend so much time worrying about the future—neal's future—and now he's stuck in the past. there's two neals to worry about now. it's the greatest problem peter has ever faced in his life. "oh, you have no idea," peter huffs out a laugh. that kid runs circles around him and he dreads the day that neal begins to show an interest in renaissance art and tailored suits. "but he's less trouble than you were." barely.
jen: ❛ i just ethic’d you in the face ! ❜
𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 being punched by intergalactic marauders, hammered by Klingons & tackled by rampaging Kree… but this might have stung worse. truth be told, there’s no bitterness in the captain’s expression, but surprise that gradually becomes a sharpened dagger making a subtle turn to face HIM.
he’s GRATEFUL for her calling him out.
𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, disasters disguise themselves as bright ideas because there are too many variables at play. & he cannot have Spock with him all the time. when he agreed to weave between S.W.O.R.D. & the rest of the galaxy, the list only included him.
it’s better some days, & not so much others.
❝ FINE, but how am i supposed to go into Kree territory without it being considered ILLEGAL INFILTRATION ? Hala is not exactly a dream vacation spot. i don’t want to keep using my ‘Captain Marvel’ card, okay ? ❞
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑬 ★ | accepting mutuals only !
peeling an orange. slice for you 🍊
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬 & 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐦 the air while curling like lazy smoke. Jim leans against the kitchen counter, watching Jen deftly peel an orange like this is somehow what she was waiting to do all day. the thin rind unfurls in one long, unbroken spiral. the zest mists the kitchen with a burst of brightness that cuts through the already richer aromas of the simmering dish.
across the stove, a sauce thickens in a cast-iron pan, its surface glossy with honeyed reduction & infused with just the right amount of ginger, star anise & a whisper of cayenne for warmth.
𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞. that someone as MESSY as him finds solace in following instructions, the rules if you will, to be a pretty damn decent cook. it’s therapeutic, somehow. as he reaches over the bowl of succulent, seared duck meat, his gaze half expectantly finds Jennifer’s. ❝ how’s life been for She-Hulk anyway ? i haven’t heard anything about her in a second. ❞
random prompts for Jim ★ | accepting mutuals only !
#a surprise email for bradley from kate, @entriprises
Bradley,
I guess this makes us pen pals. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I actually wrote a letter. Not since grade school, at least. And while I recognize this is an email, the purpose is all the same, right? Besides, all the emails I do write are brief. No one wants to read three paragraphs when a sentence or two will do. Such is the world of academia and research.
I imagine your Navy is the same way. I am happy to be corrected, though.
Are you adjusting to life back at sea? Javi was army and the few things he shared tend to only be research related. I know I haven't gotten the full story, but it doesn't feel right to push.
I'm realizing now I have no idea how to end this. I ought to ask my mom. Letter writing just for the heck of it feels like something she might've done. I guess I'll just leave it with: write back soon and don't worry about the time. I've got a lot of grant proposals due soon, so I'm usually up.
Sincerely, Kate C
#a surprise starter for bob and natasha, @entriprises
Nat's gaze flicks between the scenery blurring by them and Bob's mounted phone, the estimated time of their arrival still over an hour away according to the gps. Bored, she eyes the gear packed neatly on the backseats through the rearview mirror. Then she sighs, a better sound than whatever staticky music would come of the speakers.
"Tell me again why we're doing this," Nat demands, lacking her usual barking tone when in the cockpit. Bob had already explained his reasoning for their camping trip when he had pitched it. Without much else to do, though, she might as well hear it again.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were bringing me out to the middle of the woods to murder me." Her humor is dry but Nat isn't worried about Bob taking it seriously. Awkward as he has a tendency to be, Nat has a better read on him now.
#a surprise starter for natasha and tyler, @entriprises
Their friendship is an odd one, but by no means the strangest. Natasha hardly rates, in fact. The transient nature of Tyler's work means he's met a variety of personalities. It also means most of his connections are like this - brief encounters and little communication. Natasha stands out simply for the fact that Tyler can send both memes and technical articles without too much explanation.
(There might be a shared connection of loneliness, if Tyler were the sort to dwell on things like that.)
"Well, ain't this something," he greets her, sliding into the booth across from her. Tyler says this like it's a surprise, as if it's pure chance that brought them to the same bar in the same out of the way city. The circumstances are a coincidence, Tyler speaking at a work event and Natasha here on work-related business, but getting lunch together had been arranged.
"You like the city," Tyler asks, working his way through the typical questions.
farrah to spock : "it’s nice to see a familiar face ."
₀₁. ㅤFARRAH, ㅤ𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗬 𝗪𝗔𝗥. ㅤ𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶.
“It is … nice to know that my face is familiar.” There is a hesitance that prefaces the word nice ... it dances across his tongue with a strange unfamiliarity, but the core of his sentiment remains the same. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. Spock had been preoccupied with his lab work for several days now, hidden away in the confines of deck nine at every feasible moment he could manage to steal. Engrossed was the word he might use; isolated was another he’d heard whispered by his fellow crew members, accusing him of escaping to a laboratory to be alone. It was a ridiculous assertion, but a hefty rumor that floated throughout the corridors of the starship nonetheless. He had nothing to escape from; nothing he was trying to hide, and it seemed to him that if he were trying to do just that, he wouldn’t flee to the first place anyone using any semblance of logic would think to look for him. It was merely easier to focus on his work between shift duties and paperwork when meditation yielded little benefit.
The Vulcan stood at attention, hands now clasped behind his back with ever the perfect posture as he peered down at Farrah. The laboratory was empty at this hour, save for the two of them; scientists who seemed to operate on an entirely different sleep schedule in this current moment. Spock contributed the behavior to his own biology. He did not know what Farrah’s excuse was. “I take it you are feeling well today.”
#a surprise starter for tyler and cathy, @entriprises
Tyler washes up in the sink, humming softly to himself, some tune of a song Boone likes to repeat until he's sick of it.
He grabs the cloth off the stove handle, and doesn't flinch when he catches Cathy staring. Instead, he smiles, eyes crinkling.
"Morning ma'am," he tells Cathy. Tyler tilts his head towards the barn. "I figured I'd help with the chores." Honestly, he misses it sometimes - the stable routine of farm life. He won't give up chasing anytime soon, but a nice break from it is welcome all the same. "Kate's still asleep. Figured I shouldn't wake her." It's a lucky day when she sleeps in.
#"please let me do this myself" bradley to nat, @entriprises
Nat swallows her sigh, the resulting sound still abrasive and a poor attempt at hiding her frustration. She sets down the knife, then presses her hands onto the cool counter top.
She'd gotten used to things. Used to the quirks of his older kitchen, used to moving around the space how she best saw fit.
Nat mutters, "I was being nice." The words don't sound nice; she doesn't feel it, either. Reality is catching up with her; Bradley is no longer so dependent. There's her apartment in Lemoore, a whole life she can no longer keep paused.
"I should go."
